Waking Up
by Giggles96
Summary: Harvey Specter - flourishing senior partner, devilishly handsome bachelor, and proud single Dad. Overall, life is pretty easy. Until one day his world is suddenly turned upside down, all because of his...his associate..?
1. Waking Up

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**Waking Up**

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><p><strong>Summary: <strong>Harvey Specter - flourishing senior partner, devilishly handsome bachelor, and proud single Dad. Overall, life is pretty easy. Until one day his world is suddenly turned upside down - all because of his...his associate..?

**A/N: **Okay, so this is an idea I've had floating around in my head for a while now, and today I was just like, 'Aw, what the heck, I'll give it a try.' I really love the idea of distorting reality and playing around with it a bit (if that wasn't already perfectly clear by now) and this seemed like it could be sorta interesting, though you guys must be getting sick of these things by now. It's kind of different variations of the same theme, y'know?

Anyway, I'm not overly fond with how this turned out and I didn't really want to put it up, but, eh, I figured I might as well.

**Disclaimer: **_none of these characters belong to me. I apologise in advance for any foul language._

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><p><em>We don't see things as they are; we see them as we are - Anais Nin<em>

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><p>It's the very worst kind of silence.<p>

No-one knows what to say.

Diagonally across from where he's seated, Louis clears his throat, but can't seem to look his way, while Rachel stares down at her lap in a subdued daze at his side. Jessica sits regally, almost blandly, at the head of the table with lips ever-so-slightly pursed. And then there's Donna, who stands nervously wringing her hands.

They're all just… waiting.

It's actually kind of boring - all this anticipation. Mike swings his legs and chews on his gum, gaze circling the others in rapt attention.

They're readying themselves for the disbelief. For the rolling eyes and condescending derision.

They lather their tongues with pretty words and chisel away at the disquiet framing their expressions until all that remains is carved outlines of reason. There are chinks in their armour even he can see - a hint of frown here or a tightened jaw there. But Mike thinks it hardly matters.

The associate is coping as well as one might hope, attitude surprisingly blasé, but the truth is, that's only because it hasn't truly sunken in yet. It had happened so suddenly that his brain is still stuck in the mindset of two hours before when all he had to worry about was the hideous typo in his latest report. By comparison, the here and now is very much distant and surreal, and he'd like to keep it that way. The moment that this becomes truth, then that's it. He's done for.

Mike tries to prepare himself.

But he doesn't know what to prepare for.

And someone seriously needs to break that dreadful silence. It verges on crippling. Just as Mike is about to open his mouth and resort to making agonising small talk, they hear the telltale sound of swift, impatient footsteps. Gulping a little, Donna hurries to block the entrance of the conference room and makes it just in the nick of time.

A little breathless, she thrusts on a blithe smile and lightly greets, "Hi, Harvey," the only give-away of her distress being the anxious hands which reach down to smooth her skirt.

"Uh, hi…" Harvey frowns, smirking unsurely. "What's this about, Donna? You said there was a situation?"

"There is," the redhead is quick to assure, unintentionally grimacing. Gesturing with her hands loosely, she fumbles for a moment. "It's…it's kind of hard to explain."

Obviously taken aback by her curious loss for words, the senior partner flicks a glance behind her and replies, "Well, make it quick. I need to get back to Mike. He's probably wonderi-"

"That's actually why I called you here," she butts in with an uneasy chuckle. "Funny that."

Harvey immediately stiffens.

"Why? What happened?" he demands shortly, before attempting the push past her.

Lightening fast, her arm shoots out to stop him.

"Let me through," he lowly commands, voice dark and nearing a growl.

"No," she flat-out refuses, "Not until you hear me out-"

"I mean it, Donna," Harvey responds, his eyes a deadly threat. "Get out of my way."

She sticks out her chin. "No."

"Alright, then you leave me no choice."

There's a small struggle, but Harvey doesn't have much difficulty shouldering through, his body jerking to a halt in bewilderment at the sight of Jessica, Rachel and Louis all seated around the long table.

"What the-what's going on…" his voice peters out, gaze falling on Mike.

Everyone holds their breath.

He fixes his eyes on the small, blonde-haired toddler, who has been plunked down on a chair that seems to engulf his tiny form and is currently wriggling his toes somewhat self-consciously, large, brilliant blue eyes shyly connecting with his.

The man walks over and slowly kneels down beside the little boy.

Of them all, Donna doesn't know who's more surprised when Harvey smoothly draws the child onto his lap, tweaks his nose and grins, "You little rascal. What are you doing on such a monstrous chair? Chairs like this swallow puppies like you for breakfast."

Oh no.

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><p>Harvey holds Mike close as he rises to his feet, one hand bracing his lower back while his fingers lazily trail through the youngster's soft hair. The other occupants of the room work to conceal their reactions, but they sincerely did not expect this.<p>

Like, at all.

On any level.

Whatsoever.

Mike, in particular, doesn't seem to be taking it very well, his jaw lax and eyes darting to Rachel, who nods grimly as if in confirmation. "Why are you all looking at me like that?" Harvey laughs with an uncertain smile of confusion.

"Uh…" Louis gurgles. He looks towards Jessica, mind drawing a blank.

"What's wrong? You all look like you've seen a ghost or something," he remarks, brows wrinkling in suspicion as he soothingly pats and rubs Mike's back without paying much attention.

"N-nothing," the junior partner coughs, tugging on his shirt collar. "It's-just-just that-"

Joggling a pale-faced Mike on his hip, Harvey questions in frustration, "Just _what_? What the hel-heck is wrong with you? You're acting even more dim-witted than usual. It's beginning to creep me out."

"Harvey," Jessica calmly intervenes, taking charge of the bizarre situation they've found themselves in, and asking, "Do you know who that is?" She waves a hand towards Mike, who is admittedly getting more freaked out by the second.

The senior partner sends his boss a withering look. "Ah, yeah. I think I'd recognise my own son," he replies scornfully, turning to Donna as if to say, _Can you believe this? _"What kind of question is that?"

The only indication of shock Jessica allows herself is a single, prolonged blink, before she recovers. The others, however, are not so reserved.

Donna makes a choked, staggered sound, Rachel gapes, Mike recoils, and Louis's eyebrows take on a life of their own.

Harvey, of course, picks up on this, sweeping a baffled glance over each of them individually, before pausing on the miniature associate. "Hey, puppy," he murmurs, lowering his voice in a tender gentleness that only serves to alarm everyone further. "What's the matter, huh? You don't look so good." When Mike's only response is to stare back in a combination of panic and confusion, Harvey's expression becomes extremely troubled and he says gruffly, "Alright, I'll bite. What in God's name is going on here?"

"Harvey…" Donna winces, hesitantly laying a comforting hand on his forearm and relating firmly but sympathetically, "That's.. not your son."

Instantly jerking away, his grip on Mike tightens and Harvey angrily shakes his head in denial. "_Of course_, he's my son. Michael Ross Specter," he easily relates. "Who else would he be?"

"Harvey, I'm sorry, but that child you're holding is actually your associate. There was an incident earlier-"

His frown deepens. "I don't _have_ an associate."

"Yes, you do," she insists. "He's twenty-five years old, you hired him nine months ago after you got your promotion-"

"Ah, no. That's where you're wrong," Harvey rejects, "I turned down Jessica's little suggestion, remember? We reached a compromise. I agreed to handle my own pro-bonos, so long as she got off my back about signing on some pathetic new wannabe." He rolls his eyes, scoffing, "Like I'd want to work with one of those Harvard douche-bags. That's Louis' thing, not mine. Hell, like I'd want to work with anyone_, _period. Donna, you _know_ this. I'm not exactly a team-player. I blame the amazing awesomeness that follows me around all day - it puts people off."

Louis snorts, "Nice to see being a fake father hasn't affected your ego."

Shooting his rival a heated glare, the senior partner shoves a hand through his hair and exclaims, "Why am I even trying to convince you of this, anyway? You were _there_."

Seeing that they're not getting anywhere, Jessica puts forward, "Alright, let's come at this from a different angle, okay? What do you remember about the last few hours?"

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face and replies in a tone that makes it abundantly clear he's merely indulging them, "It was a pretty shitt-rubbish day. Mike's nanny cancelled, - flu or something - so I had to take him to the office with me, but he's been super clingy all day and I didn't get much done. Not to mention, Donna had him hopped up on sugar, which is always a joy to deal with. Then Mr. Garcia called in a whole crisis and I had to leave Mike with Rachel at the last minute, who was kind and unoccupied enough to take him. Everyone else was slammed with the Dickson merger. Then I return after some cryptic message from Donna to find that everyone has organised a secret meeting to convince me that I'm crazy. Happy?"

"Not particularly. You say you left him in Miss Zane's care?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?" Harvey sneers. "Because according to my obviously faulty memory, you stated that it was perfectly fine. In fact, if I recall correctly, you even expressed regret at not being able to watch over him yourself." He moulds his features into mock sorrow. "Pity, too. Mike loves playing with the blocks in your office. Oh," he pauses, snapping his fingers and giving a head-shake as if correcting himself; "Well, I guess he _would_. If he weren't, you know, a - what was it? Twenty-five year old man."

"I don't think I appreciate your attitude," Jessica answers stiffly.

"And I don't think I appreciate whatever lame-ass prank you're trying to pull. I mean, roping in an impressionable young toddler? Not least, my own _son_. That's pretty damn low, Jessica. I would have thought more of you. Louis… not so much. But _you_. Oh, and my supposed _best friend_, on top of that," he adds contemptuously, mouth twisting bitterly. "That's just plain nasty."

"Mr. Specter, they're not lying," Rachel tentatively contradicts, speaking for the first time. "Mike _came_ to my office for help after you ordered him to find evidence that Mrs. Evans was dealing in bad faith."

"Could you just give it a rest?" the senior partner tiredly requests, gently brushing Mike's hair once more seemingly unconsciously. "I'm not falling for it."

"Harvey, this isn't a joke. We're serious," Donna tries, feeling all kinds of torn up inside. "Nobody knows what happened. One minute Mike was a normal, easygoing guy going about his business, the next he's like that. And you're like… this."

"Wow," Harvey mouths, rocking back on his heels. "I really commend your dedication. Seriously, kudos to you, my friends. Ha ha ha," he says flatly. "Can I go home now?"

"Harvey, _please_," the redhead implores.

He's silent for a moment as he hugs the shrunken associate to his chest and presses a kiss to his forehead.

"Why are you doing this?" Harvey finally asks. And his voice is emotionless.

Donna's eyes are brimming with moisture. "I wish I didn't have to."

Giving a ragged sigh, he declares, "I'm leaving."

"No, don't. Harvey-"

Sick of running in circles, Mike suddenly blurts, "It's true."

Harvey damn near drops him.

"It's true, Harvey," the associate repeats, ignoring the flabbergasted look which comes over the other man's face.

The rest shift uncomfortably.

His voice is high and unmistakably child-like as he recounts, stumbling over the occasional word, "You're always chastising me over my abysmal punctuality and are endlessly frustrated by my insistence that I empathise with our clients. You hate the fact that I bike to work every morning and you once told me that my skinny ties were the bane of your existence. Your favourite pastime is lecturing me on how to be a proper grown-up since I kind of screw up a lot. You tell me to get my shit together; I call you out on being a selfish asshole - it's our thing. We fight and we bicker, but we actually make a pretty good team and if I may say so myself, we have a lot of fun together, too. And you _are_ proud sometimes of how I'm 'coming along,' though you'd never bring yourself to admit it."

The senior partner's skin is colourless and he looks like he's in danger of throwing up any second.

"We also take turns sneaking into Louis' office and replacing his fancy-ass pens with duplicates, which have been hollowed out and crammed full of glitter. We usually add a dab of glue along the cap, so that when he twists and yanks it open-"

Nostrils flaring, Louis finishes, "The glitter flies everywhere! Dammit, I _knew_ it was you two! Are you hearing this, Jessica? I _told_ you they were the culprits! Do you have _any_ idea how hard those atrocious twinkling pests are to remove? You're never free of them!"

Mike makes a _whoops_ face. "You gotta admit, though," he tries to damage control, but can't quite contain his snicker. He pushes a fist to his lips, chest shuddering. "It was kinda funny. You walked around with sparkly eyebrows for weeks."

"Oh, you little-"

"Boys! Get it together, for Pete's sake," Donna scolds. "That is _so_ not a priority right now."

They both glance back at Harvey guilty to find him in an almost comatose state, pupils hugely dilated but eyes unseeing.

"I…I think he's going into shock," Rachel whispers.

"Harvey?" Jessica calls in concern. "Harvey, are you alright? Do you need to sit down for a moment?"

"No, no," Harvey blinks. "I'm fine," he says numbly, before quickly placing Mike on the ground with trembling arms and muttering, "Excuse me for one moment."

He makes it as far as the door before he crumples over, heaving.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. <em>

_I really wanted to incorporate everyone, so I hope the characterisation didn't veer off track. _

_Oh, and I_ think _this_ _is a one-shot because I don't like it all that much and I doubt anyone wants to see any more._


	2. Wide Awake

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**Wide Awake**

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><p><strong>AN: **Aw, jeez. I was blown away by the response to the last chapter. Everyone was so, so sweet. I was admittedly in one of those funny 'ugh' moods when I posted it, which I feel a little bad about. I honestly did not think anyone would want more (or that people actually read my author's notes).

Seriously, a huge thank-you to anyone who reviewed. Without you, this story would have easily been abandoned as an unsatisfying one-shot. Also, there is nothing I love more than knowing my fics are putting smiles on people's faces, so cheers for that. It just makes my day.

**Disclaimer: **_none of these characters belong to me. I apologise in advance for any foul language._

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><p>Mike won't stop wriggling.<p>

Once more, the air is stagnant, a tentative quiet and dull heat filling the room, as everyone sneaks infrequent side-glances towards Harvey, who is still shaking as he tries - and fails - to process all that he's been told. It is sheer, dumb luck that he manages to get his breathing under control, or maybe it's all the past practise he's had trying to hold it together for Mike's sake.

Mike, who is not Mike. But rather, a stranger, a fraud, a man in the guise of his toddler.

Mike, who - any moment now - Harvey expects to clamber on his lap with a pensive, little frown and lightly poke his bellybutton to activate his 'Voice-Box,' because he can always tell when something's wrong and there's nothing he hates more than a sad Daddy who won't talk to him.

And right now, it's virtually impossible to reconcile this Mike with anyone other than his Mike, as he all but vibrates in his struggle to remain still, movements restless and distracting - light bounces on his seat and soft humming, swiftly followed by the occasional kick and lip chewing.

The actions are so much like his puppy, it hurts.

Without thinking, Harvey reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and fishes out a small, plastic truck, dropping it onto Mike's lap.

As the associate's head snaps up in bewilderment, he recalls where he is and who this is - who this _isn't_ - and tenses, pulling back and protectively crossing his arms to keep from tousling the youngster's hair, or God forbid, cuddling him close in an embarrassing effort to repair the gaping chasm that rips open inside of him.

"Sorry, habit." His voice sounds weird - watery, unsure, nothing like him.

The lawyer awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. "He, uh, my Mike-he gets fidgety when he's bored," Harvey explains at their questioning stares, shoulders hunching a little defensively. "I carry those things everywhere. When you've got a kid with a relatively short attention span, you're constantly on the look out for new ways to keep them out of your hair. It's my job to entertain, you know?" It eats away at Harvey - how much he wants them to know. But how could they? All they know is Before and After. A broken man, in any case.

Harvey stares at the small, battered truck with the tiny scratches and pale, scuffed blue. Remembers the way his puppy steered the toy along his office floor for the first time, practising the sound effects Harvey had just taught him with clumsy lips and spewing droplets of spit. Brum brum. "Guess it's too ingrained."

In all the years she's known him, Donna has never seen her boss act like this.

Adam's apple bobbing as his gaze dulls, he looks… he looks achingly small. Harvey's actually carrying around a little kid's plaything as if it's _normal_ - stored inside one of his sacred suits that he as good as worships, and he's not even preaching about contamination of image.

She realises with a start that this is what it looks like to see Harvey Specter's heart get broken.

"What else you got in there?" Louis wonders, leaning forward and craning his neck. This results in a sharp elbow in the ribs from Donna, who gives him a pointed look for his efforts. "What?" he hisses back. "I'm just asking."

This Harvey is as new to him as he is to her, and it's no surprise that everyone's curiosity is at an all-time high. But still.

Confronted with the image of a Harvey who unconsciously strokes his tie in what looks remarkably reminiscent of an attempt at self-comfort, it feels awfully like they're taking advantage of him.

But Harvey is a lawyer - he moulds and manipulates his persona to his will for a living. Give the people what they want, only what they expect of him. So it's really of no shock to Donna that the man who is barely keeping it together, smiles for the cameras. The show must go on.

He sighs, "Much as I cherish your harebrained attempts to shelter me, Donna - it's fine. I'm not going to burst into tears." Rolling his eyes, the senior partner points out, "There's no point skirting around the subject. We might as well get everything out in the open."

His statement is met with uncomfortable frowns, but no-one protests. Donna, herself, has to admit it's not a bad idea. Better to know where not to step, than accidentally stumble upon a landmine.

After a moment, Louis raises a brow and prompts, "Well?" The redhead suspects he's reached a point where he'll do anything just to fend off the oppressive silence, but Donna nudges him again just for the heck of it. "Ow," Louis complains, rubbing the spot where she'd rammed her elbow. She gives him a predatory smile and he stills.

Smirking at the exchange, Harvey tugs on his jacket, peering inside and taking inventory. "Okay, let's see what we've got here… I have tissues, band-aids, finger-puppets, stickers-" Seeing the redhead open her mouth, he clarifies, "My Mike's not a great believer in socks. Or shoes, for that matter, though he doesn't detest them quite so much. He gets a sticker every time he wears them without initiating a tantrum. I hang onto them because Mike assumed that without the power of the stickers, I had no authority to tell him to keep his socks and shoes on in public, and started slipping them off as soon as we left home. He thought he was being sneaky."

Despite herself, Donna just about liquefies internally, clasping her hands together and gushing, "Oh, my God. That is too cute."

"Yeah…he can be pretty adorable when he wants to be," Harvey agrees, smiling softly. The grip around his tie tightens. "Only downside is, my son has a very big heart and to my dismay, he insists on 'sharing' them with me. If I turn his offering down or peel the little buggers off prematurely, then it's guaranteed waterworks. Sweet as it is, you try explaining to clients why you've shown up at a meeting with an obnoxiously cheery bumble bee or monkey sticker declaring 'great job' or 'well done' plastered over your chest or, worse, face. It's always nice when my cunning attempts of positive reinforcement backfire on me."

"That… is the most amazing thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, that's not even the worst of it," he assures. "There's also the time I was dinning with a client and reached for a pen so that he could sign the new contract I'd drafted up, but accidentally pulled out a bright orange pipe-cleaner instead." Harvey grins, eyes sparkling at the memory. "He was not impressed."

"Why did you have a _pipe-cleaner_?" Louis questions, puzzled.

That seemed to be what Jessica - who by contrast did not appear the least bit amused - wanted to know, too.

"You can make just about anything with them," the senior partner replies as if the answer is stupidly simple. "Mike'll spend hours simply trying to twist one into the shape of a bird. He's…" Harvey hesitates, obviously not wanting to say anything unflattering about his son. "Well, he does his best. More often than not, though… I'm gifted with another snake called Arnie."

"And-and the puppets?" Rachel queries, lip quirked as she peeks at the toddler, who is presently glaring at Harvey for all he's worth and pouting rather adorably.

"Two, handmade pirates that Mike can amuse himself with whenever he doesn't have any of his toys and I'm too busy to play with him."

"This is gold," Donna squeals at the same time Mike grumbles, "This is so embarrassing."

"Look, this kind of stuff might seem peculiar to you, but I'm…I'm a dad," Harvey says modestly, giving a half-shrug. His eyes slide to Mike's face, then away again. "This is normal, everyday life for me. And these are necessities which generally tend to make my day ten times easier. I get that this has some kind of comedic value to you, but this is…" His features suddenly tighten. "This was real," he murmurs, and his voice is etched with so much despondency that there's not a heart in that conference room that doesn't constrict.

The guilt which swamps Mike then is insupportable. He can't bear to see that…that _look_ in Harvey's eyes and know that he's the cause. That reticent, mournful look.

"What if-what if it _is _real?" Mike ponders. "What if this is only one side of the story?"

All of a sudden, he once again has the attention of every single person in the room.

Unnerved by the intensity of Harvey's gaze which quickly latches on him, he turns the toy in his hands, detecting a minuscule crack in the screen, and mumbles, "I, um, I have a theory."

"Do share," Jessica drawls, intrigued but guarded.

"Well…" He is painfully aware of the in his childish lilt of his voice, the chubby cheeks that squish his lips ever-so-slightly together, the innocent sweetness of his expression. It makes Mike feel exposed and painfully self-conscious. "The Harvey that we, uh, that we know would never have any need to own one of these, right?" He holds up the blue truck that he's been squeezing. "He wouldn't be caught dead with it. Which begs the question… how'd the hel-" he spies Harvey's expression and father or no, swiftly changes course, "heck did it get here?"

"That's…that's actually a fair point," Harvey remarks in surprise. They still can't really look at each other.

"I'm thinking…what if there's another me out there with another Harvey?" Mike speculates. "And we maybe got, I don't know…switched."

"…Switched?" Louis repeats with a doubtful smirk.

"I'm serious. Think about it. There could be another world or universe or something out there where everything that this Harvey remembers has in fact occurred. How else would he have acquired those memories when none of us have any of the same experiences? It had to have happened out there, somewhere. Implausible as it sounds, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Mike, even if that were true," Rachel questions, "How would the two...the two _worlds,"_ she wrinkles her nose at the word, "have crossed over? It still doesn't explain how you miraculously turned into a toddler."

"This is all just conjuncture, so obviously I can't say for sure. I don't have an explanation for why or how this happened, but I think I might have some idea _what_ happened." Stuffing several fingers into his mouth, he frowns and mulls it over.

Mike starts to speak again, but before he has the chance, Harvey automatically tugs his hand away and gently rebukes, "No fingers." Then they both realise at once what they've done, and the discomfited silence makes an unwelcome reappearance.

Cheeks faintly flushed, Mike carries on after a moment, his tiny hand clenching and oozing slobber, "Anyway, as I was, um, saying, if you can wrap your head around the potential for alternate realities or other selves, would it be that great of a leap to assume that while Harvey One and Two physically entered each other's realities, Mini-Mike and I maybe only swapped bodies?"

They don't immediately rule it out, which Mike takes to be a good sign.

Then, all of a sudden, Harvey pales. Eye widening, his tone is aghast as he further contemplates this scenario, "So, what you're suggesting is.." He swallows. "There might be another me out there who happens to be an arrogant asshole with a crusade against caring, with a grown associate who would almost certainly have the mentality of a two-year old, _my_ two-year old, and would recognise him as his father?"

Mike bites his lip.

"Uh…" He glances back at the others, witnesses their identical grimaces. "Basically, yeah."

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_Thank-you so much for reading._

_I know there's not much Mike in this, but when I started writing, he just didn't seem to have anything to say._


	3. Wear Down

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**Wear Down**

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><p><strong>AN: **Oh, dear Lord…this story. It is beyond bizarre, I'm so sorry.

**Disclaimer: **_none of these characters belong to me. I apologise in advance for any foul language._

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><p><em>Meanwhile<em>...

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><p>"Donna, tell Mike I need those briefs on my desk by seven-thirty sharp tomorrow morning," Harvey instructs as he saunters past, before pausing in the doorway of his office, trolling through his missed calls as he adds, "Oh, and be sure to give him the, <em>'<em>Don't mess with me, I can squish you like a bug' face. Really lay it on thick. That way, at least we might have a fighting chance; I _can__not_ be late to another meeting because of that nitwit."

"Harvey," Donna slowly spins around on her chair to politely enquire, "What the hell are you talking about it?"

"Mike, briefs, client meeting," he distractedly replies, followed by a few vague hand gestures. "What's there to get?"

"Um…"

"Donna," He rolls his eyes at her, "I was lead to believe that some of the _point_ of having an associate is to reduce my workload, not add to it."

"_Oh_…" Her expression clears and she beams. "Oh, I see. Is this another one of those role-playing games? Because, I gotta say, adorable as it may admittedly be, I wasn't sure you were up for sacrificing another tie. And on that note, do you think it's normal for Mike to still chew on those at his age? I mean, the kid's like a little teething monster. Although," she tilts her head, considering, "On the plus side, I guess the puppy nickname is pretty apt."

He stares at her incredulously for a moment.

"Do I…" Harvey falters, looking positively mystified, "Do I think it's _normal_? For Mike to _chew _on a_ tie_? Is that a trick question?"

"Erm…" The redhead appears equally confused. "I'm gonna go with no…?"

"Donna," he begins with building urgency, "Please do not tell me that that idiot screwed with one of my ties. I swear to God, if he has, I will have no reservations about firing his ass, before seeking vengeance and perhaps strangling him in his sleep."

"Uh…" Donna's frown is tainted with mild concern. "Don't you think you might be taking this a little too far, Harvey?"

"Taking _what_ too far? My ties are at stake, Donna." For emphasis, he raises his brows and repeats, "_My ties_."

"See, I don't know if you're kidding."

"I never kid about ties."

"Alright," she declares, posture straightening as if to say, _I'll play_, "What's this really about? Sudden injured ties fixation aside, you never usually get this caught up in the whole pretend associate fantasy." Before he has the chance to question _that_ puzzling statement, she presses a hand to her chest and goes on, "Listen, I think Mike makes an adorable sidekick too, don't get me wrong. But whenever you start making oddly specific and, quite frankly, disturbing death threats, I think maybe it's time to let it go. By the way," she says abruptly, "Where _is_ Mike? He still with Rachel?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't keep track of his every goddamn move."

It's funny that at the exact moment that Donna's jaw drops in stunned disbelief, Rachel comes running over with an expression of pure horror and breathlessly exclaims, "I lost Mike!"

Harvey has no clue what is with everyone today, but he's willing to play along for now.

Cocking a brow, he lets loose a disdainful smirk and repeats, "You…lost… Mike?"

"I am so, _so_ sorry, Harvey," she gasps, "But-he just-he just-" Rachel cuts off, looking flummoxed and distraught and frustrated all at once, "Oh, my God, I swear, I'm not going crazy. He's… Harvey, something happened to him and I-"

"It's okay, honey," Donna interrupts, calm and consoling. "Take a deep breath, tell us what happened. Where could he have gotten to?"

"Donna, you don't understand," the paralegal objects, "He's not the same! Mike…he's…he's-"

"Right over there," Harvey contemptuously interjects, bored of everyone's weird behaviour as he points down the hallway where his apparently defective associate is currently stumbling around. Oh, God. What has he done now?

"What are you talking about? I don't see him," Donna contradicts at the same time Rachel cries, "Oh, my God. Mike!"

The blonde head snaps up, one hand groggily rubbing his eye.

"Rach, who is that guy?" the redhead questions, appearing perturbed. "What is going on?"

"This is what I was trying to tell you! _This…_this is Mike, Donna!"

"_Of course, _it's Mike," Harvey groans, but his voice is drowned out by Donna condescendingly pointing out, "Uh, Rachel? That's a grown man."

"I-I know," she replies, flustered. "But I'm telling you, he's Mike! I know this is hard to believe, but I saw it happen, Donna. Look, I'll-I'll prove it, alright? Mike? Mike, sweetie, look at me."

Gaze clouded with confusion, Mike scowls at her, and - to Harvey's complete and utter bewilderment - begins wriggles uncomfortably. With a loud and vehement exhale, he huffs, "Off!"

Rachel frowns. "What was that?"

"Wan' _off_!"

"I'm sorry, pet. I don't know what that means," the paralegal says apologetically.

Mike whimpers.

Hopping on one foot, he angrily yanks on his shoe and when it fails to dislodge, the associate swipes at his watering eyes and mournfully repeats, "O-off."

What in the name of Christ-?

Harvey glances over at Donna to gauge what she's making of this, and startles a little when he finds that she's staring right at him.

"You're not freaking out," she says in an odd tone, narrowing judicious eyes, "Why aren't you freaking out?"

"Does this mean you're convinced?" Rachel asks, desperate for someone else to understand.

"Provisionally," Donna remarks dismissively, before turning back to Harvey. "You…you look shocked, but not panicky. Why is that?"

Before Harvey has the chance to reply, the paralegal jumps in, equally perplexed. "You recognised him," she recalls, frowning. "You knew that he was Mike." It's not framed as a question and yet, the older man gets the feeling it's intended as one nevertheless.

"I'd recognise those god-awful skinny ties anywhere," he answers dryly, not ready - or willing - to take this seriously.

"Again with the damn ties," Donna mutters to herself, and just as Harvey is about to open his mouth to bite back with a spectacularly witty retort, Mike spots him for the first time.

His expression, though crumpled in distress, immediately eases somewhat with relief.

Rushing forward on instinct, he flings his arms around the senior partner's neck and buries his face in his chest with a burbled, "No wan' 'oos, Daddy! Wan' off."

Staggering back under the weight, Harvey stiffens in the unexpected embrace and with a look of unadulterated disgust, simply says, "Mike…What the fuck?"

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><p>"Donna…" Harvey mutters, rigid and horrified, "Get him off of me."<p>

At the same time, Mike wrenches away in surprise, slapping a hand over his mouth and proclaiming, "Uh-oh. Daddy say bad word! Donna, Daddy say bad word!"

"Holy shit," Donna murmurs, glancing over at a similarly stunned Rachel. "Okay, you've got me. I'm convinced. Hell has frozen over and this is almost certainly the end-"

Automatically brushing down his suit, Harvey angrily directs at the paralegal, "What in God's name did you do to him?"

"Nothing, I swear!"

"Did he just call me what I think he just called me?"

"Well, y-yes, but Harvey-"

"I do not have time for an emotionally traumatized associate. What the hell had to happen for him to mistake me for his freaking father?"

"Holy shit. Holy, holy shit. Earlier... that wasn't an act, was it?" Donna realizes. "You really do think he's your associate."

"He _is_ my associate," he replies in exasperation, shoving a hand through his hair.

"No, he's not. Harvey, that's... that's your son. Your two-year old son. Don't you remember?"

"There's nothing _to_ remember. What are you _talking about_?"

She hesitates.

"Your son-"

"I don't _have_ a son!" he explodes.

Donna and Rachel reel back, stricken.

Taking a deep breath, Harvey slowly unclenches his fists and with a quiet, deadly calm, he says, "I have never had a son, got it? So someone better tell me what the hell is going on."

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><p>It's an hour later and Harvey's still in shock.<p>

He's seen the pictures - smiling, happy pictures. Fluffy blonde hair and bright blue orbs, a tiny little thing cradled in _his_ arms.

He's seen no evidence of the lovable oaf who gatecrashed his interviews ever having existed.

They're in his office, Mike quietly playing in the corner - his older appearance the only thing keeping him sane, grounded, positive that somehow it was real - while Harvey holds his head in his hands and tries desperately not to think.

He just wants his stupid associate back; he doesn't want to deal with this.

"I'm going to have to speak with Jessica, explain the situation to her," Donna says finally with the tone of someone that's been warring with themselves, deliberating for a long time. "You need to stay and keep watch over him. Knowing Mike, he'll throw a fit if he's left with anyone else for the second time in one day."

"Hang on," he responds, alarmed. "You can't go-"

"I'm sorry, Harvey. Really, I am. But this is the kind of thing you sort of need to explain in person."

Standing up, she starts to leave.

He blanches.

"Donna, wait," Harvey hisses, catching her arm, "You can't seriously be thinking of leaving me alone with him. I don't know what to do!"

Her eyelashes flutter a little in surprise. For Donna, it's like having a rare flash from the past - back when Harvey was overwhelmed and inexperienced, freaking out over the prospect of diaper changes and vanishing pacifiers. She still hasn't recovered from all the late night phone calls.

"It's really pretty simple. Just keep him out of trouble, don't ignore him when he's talking to you and, oh-" She leans in close and lightly pats his shoulder, "Try not to let him choke on anything."

Rolling his eyes and huffing a sigh, Harvey sullenly grumbles, "I'm not a complete idiot."

"Hmm.." Donna makes an noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and doubtfully purses her lips. "Jury's still out on that one." Then, with one last, ungodly smirk in his direction, the redhead gives an unfairly smug wave, before smothering a laugh and flouncing away.

He has never felt so betrayed.

Harvey warily turns to his helpless associate and struggles to contain his grimace. With a wrinkled nose, he watches Mike cram his fingers into his mouth and can't help but mutter, "That is so gross."

Grinning at the sound of the senior partner's voice, Mike thrusts out a slobber-coated police car and yells, "Tome pay, Daddy!"

Oh, dear Lord. Somebody shoot him now.

"Right, play. Of course," the lawyer mumbles. Eyeing the carpeted floor in distaste, he kneels down beside the animated youngster and reluctantly accepts the moist token. Content to simply have his father sit unreceptively beside him, Mike continues exuberantly propelling the tiny cars his across his office, but Harvey soon becomes fed up and starts idly pushing his own loaned toy back and forth, lips twitching and a strange warmth surging in his chest when Mike glances over and beams at seeing the senior partner join in on the fun - regardless of how half-heartedly.

It's… oddly enjoyable.

After a while, though, Harvey is overcome with the need to say something, anything, clucking his tongue and awkwardly drawling, "So…" He gazes around at the strewn assemble of cars, lorries, fire trucks and motorbikes, noting the nearby bucket filled with flamboyant, scarily-detailed racecars. "You obviously have a thing for flashy vehicles. That's…cool. I can relate to that."

Mike stabs a finger at the now immobile police-car in Harvey's hand and declares, "Dat yours, Daddy."

He quirks a brow.

"You sure about that, kiddo?" the older man chuckles in amusement. "Because I'm warning you now, I have quite a reputation; I'm known to be a notoriously selfish bastard. You give this to me now, you won't get it back."

"No mine," the boy insists with big blue eyes that are far too endearingly earnest for Harvey's own good. He can feel his heart softening - just a little bit. Mouth set in an immovable, stubborn line, Mike once again asserts, "For you!"

Who knew Mike could be so aggressively generous?

"Okay, okay," the senior partner grins. "Jeez, enough with the puppy-dog eyes, Bambi. I got it. This is mine." Determined not to be a complete pushover, he adds, "But just for now, okay? You can have it back later."

Mike nods, seemingly appeased. But after only a handful of seconds, he pokes Harvey on the shoulder and tacks on just for good measure, "Yours?"

Aw, hell. There is no denying it.

This is too frickin' adorable.

"Mine," Harvey soothingly agrees, and definitely does not reach out to ruffle the kid's hair.

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><p>Half an hour later and Donna still hasn't returned.<p>

Things are going relatively well. Or, at least, they _were_, until Mike suddenly cuts off in the middle of his unintelligible prattle about someone called Dr. Roar (Harvey will refute this until his dying breath. Under no circumstances is he involved in anything resembling an imaginary tea party. There are absolutely no teddy bears or action figures placed around in a circle in the centre of his office or on top of a childish fleece blanket and he was not bullied into participating with the threat of tears from his sniffling associate with the mind of a two-year old) and demands, "Wan' Jewybean!"

"You want jellybeans?" Harvey questions in perplexity, furrowing his brows and scratching his head. "I.. uh, I don't think I have any of those. Besides, is that really a wise idea? Spoiled appetites and managing nightmarish sugar highs and all that - I'm sure, I read something somewhere about the dangers of copious amounts of sugar. With normal Mike, it's usually a relatively delicate balance. Too much and he acts like a jittery moron, - and he's moronic at the best of times - but too little and the kid basically flat-lines. Why am I telling you this, anyway?" He suddenly pulls himself up short. "You have a severely limited understanding of the English language. Heck," he gives a small chuckle and smirks, "I could probably call you a brainless fucktard and you couldn't even take offence."

Peering at him quizzically, in a voice soft with curiosity and innocence, Mike asks, "What's fucktawd, Daddy?"

His eyes widen. Shit.

"O-kay, that's enough of that," Harvey says quickly.

Donna may very well castrate him if she finds out he's corrupted the ingenuous associate - and she _will_ find out, that's for certain. She always finds out.

No, he has to fix this. Fast.

Casting a glance over the room for a convenient distraction, his eyes land on something soft and crazily fluffy half-buried under some cushions on the couch and he blindly wrenches it free. "Hey, hey, look! It's a…a-" He turns it over and squints. "What in God's name is this thing?"

Right then, Mike's face positively lights up and he reaches for it eagerly, hugging the fluff-ball to his chest and brushing his cheek over the unruly fur. "You founded Jewybean!" the youngster giggles in delight, beaming brilliantly at Harvey.

"Jellybean?" he replies blankly. "_This_ is Jellybean? Seriously? Jellybean is a _stuffed toy_?"

Kneading his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, Harvey gives a disbelieving sigh and shakes his head.

Dammit. He did not sign up for this.

He has no idea how he's supposed to make this right or how Mike will react when eventually - inevitably - Harvey screws up and does something his 'Daddy' would never do.

He's no father. He barely even qualifies as a respectable role-model.

And yet… here he is.

And sure, this kid drools a lot, is still only really learning to talk, and has somewhere along the line managed to usurp his office, but if there is one thing that is abundantly clear, it is that this is _Mike_ - through and through. Thoughtful and sweet and loyal to the bone.

He still has that goddamn police car, for goodness sake.

Almost unconsciously, Harvey reaches down and pats his pocket to feel the hard, oddly-shaped lump. He doesn't even realise when his lips begin to take the shape of the most damning of damning smiles, fond and appallingly gentle.

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><p><em>Um, so I wrote this while seriously sleep-deprived, so I apologise if it's not up to scratch. Hope it didn't disappoint.<em>

_Thanks for reading!_


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